Vanilla Twilight
by A Paper Moon
Summary: "I'm glad you finally found him."  - Years have passed since that moment of tragedy and now Arthur realizes, there are such things as second chances.


_Just finishing up a last minute idea I had will trying to (trying being the operative word) finish my PoliSci paper for midterms. Thanks for clicking the link and I hope you enjoy. Leave anything you want at the door and I'll make sure to take a peek. :)_

(I do not own Merlin. The end.)

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* * *

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**Vanilla Twilight:**  
**Because Love is too Strong a Bond**

* * *

_And I'll forget the world that I knew,  
But I swear I won't forget you.  
Oh, if my voice could reach  
Back through the past  
I'd whisper in your ear,  
Oh, darling I wish you were here._

_

* * *

_

The snow falls down in fairy-like, sparkling fragments; the fading moon's light hitting each flake, and sending a refraction of color over the ground.

From his perch next to the large window, the King of Camelot watches in solemn silence. A heavy sigh and then he turns from the sight and through the large oak doors separating him from the rest of the castle.

Old age is taking its toll on his body, the snapping and grinding of his knees like that of a breaking branch as he descends the steps to the courtyard. Those he passes bow lowly, their gaze's sympathetic to their ruler.

Though the king has always been cheerful by nature, the last decade or so saw him crumbling into sorrow. Little by little, the strong man's shoulders began to sag and his eyes lost their blue spark. No one can figure out just what had happened in that time, solely for the queen's knowledge.

The woman in question leans against the windowpane previously occupied by her husband, her hand held tightly to her chest. There is a pain there, for two reasons, one of which she'd rather not recognize.

The cape of crimson silk ruffles behind him in the breeze and though it's still cold enough to freeze the rivers, he continues on his way past the gate and toward a lone hill. The crunching sound of the fallen snow is the only noise in this weird time of day.

The moon hasn't quite left and yet the sun is pushing its partner onward. Behind the clouds, brightness is a welcomed addition to the horizon and the king realizes that soon, he'll need to return to Court to begin the day's tasks. Again, a sigh.

His hands feel barren in the bitter cold and though he knows that gloves would have been a smart move, he longs for something else to cover his freezing fingers.

He makes his way up the hill, a stumble startling the few men the queen sent after her husband.

_Do not be seen for he will grow angry if he sees that I worry._

Their horses prance in the snow and when one snorts, the king looks over his shoulder in confusion and though he longs to be upset, he finds that the queen's concern is rather touching.

They'd never truly loved one another in the way that a man and woman should, but their friendship was an honest and powerful thing. When he found that he needed a wife and the women were lining themselves up for contention, he quickly grabbed the only female he knew would fit the bill and eloped with her. Needless to say, it killed him.

Finally reaching the peak, the king looks into the falling snow, the white, feather-light flakes donning his hair and eyelashes and he laughs. The deep chuckle is a mixture of joy and happiness, a dash of frustration and anger hidden beneath. He closes his eyes and feels the wind through snow up and around him and he can almost hear the returning insults.

'_You're such prat, you know.'_

"Yeah."

He's shocked to see that he has spoken back to someone that isn't even there. His fingers come to his lips which are cold and beginning to tremble and he's reminded of the pressure of another's mouth.

"You idiot…"

He half wishes for a response and when none comes, he sighs in resignation. Of course he wouldn't be there. He's about to turn back when something cold hits his shoulder. His hand is at his belt in seconds only to realize that is sword is still in his room. (There's a boy who's supposed to polish it, but the king can't bear to look at him.)

"Who is there?"

There is silence and then, "Who do you think, you prat?"

Eyes wide, the king spins, almost losing his balance in the accumulating snow. Along with his good looks, his balance left years ago.

"You…"

There, a few feet away, is a figure, its silhouette illuminated in the light that is the storm. The figure shrugs. "Me."

"What are you…?"

"Really?"

As it walks toward him, the king can make out a head of dark hair and something red hanging from its neck. It can't be…

"I came back for you."

The king can only stare as the man (yes, he can see it's a man now) manifests in the snow and a wide grin is growing on his pale face.

"I…"

The man chuckles and internally, the king is angry that he still managed to retain his youth. Those dark blue eyes and high, sharpened cheekbones. The red lips and white teeth and the long fingers that reach out to him.

"Arthur."

His name rolls off the man's tongue and the king is rendered speechless. Instead, he drops to his knees before his once-servant.

"Did you miss me?"

Merlin crouches to become eyelevel with Arthur and his hand reaches up to cup the king's chin. A soft thumb runs over his bottom lip and Arthur wonders why the brunette isn't put-off by his aging features. As if to answer his question, Merlin laughs.

"You are so vain." And then the brunette's lips are on Arthur's forehead and everything is right in the world.

Arthur's heart feels a thousand times lighter and he manages a small smile. He hasn't felt this alive since his first years as king. That time had been the joy of his life.

* * *

He had one of his best friends as his queen, his subjects adored him, and his heart belonged to only one person. When his queen found out about his lover, he was surprised that her response was only to smile at him.

'_I can't blame you. I've always known and I knew that even if I were to become your queen, I would only be second in your heart. You deserve each other.'_

They had made a promise: in public, they would be together, but in private, they would have their own companions.

He had never thought he could love a man; the idea seemed against everything he had grown up believing, and yet, the first time that he and his manservant had shared together had felt like the first day of the rest of his life.

Merlin was, by far, the gentlest lover he had ever taken. The younger man had lain below him that first night, his mouth slightly gapping as soft breaths left his lungs. Dark eyes clouded with love and lust and something akin to impatience stared back at him and that alone had Arthur gasping for air.

And then, a year or so after their affair began, he and Merlin had been riding to the lake where Merlin annually said a prayer for Freya, the young woman that had also taken a part of his heart. Something spooked the king's steed and Arthur tilted from the saddle, his trajectory sending him off the edge of the steep cliff taken to the lake.

Merlin's eyes flashed a molten gold and Arthur's body stopped, mid-fall, and then gently rested on the ground. The guards immediately recognized sorcery and had Merlin off his horse and in custody in mere seconds.

Arthur's quick commands had the warlock released, but it didn't take long for word to get to the kings of other lands where magic was still outlawed. Bounties were sent for the man's head and it was in the midst of a sunny afternoon that Merlin was taken.

Arthur, training his knights and not by Merlin's side, never forgave himself for letting his lover be captured. He spent weeks sending out search parties to find him and when no news came back, the king began to fall into a deep depression. Nothing neither said nor done could raise his hopes. The kingdom had hoped that the king's lover had been taken for a ransom (that he would be returned in time), but when no word or demand came for money, the people began to fear the worst.

Then, a year to the day, news returned.

A man's body had been found outside the Forest of Darulín. The man seemed to only have died hours ago and, if the bruises that marked his body were any indication, he had been held captive for months.

Arthur rode out, only a few men accompanied him, and it wasn't long before they reached Darulín. Indeed, there was a man, though by now, a passing party had pulled and cleaned him of the dirt. Several women had washed his face once news spread that it might have been the taken lover of the king. Royally treated as if still alive, the man was propped amongst the pillows that were in the caravan.

Arthur wasted no time in dismounting and ran to where they were gathered round the body. He didn't need to get that close to recognized the dark, unruly hair and the slim, long fingers. The bracelet on his left wrist (made for him by the king's daughter, Eliza, on the man's twenty-ninth birthday) was a dead giveaway. There, lying in the middle of the grief-stricken women, was Merlin.

From there and onward, the king only became a shell of himself. The anger he had felt dissipated in time, through prayer and many a bar fight. It all lead to where he was now.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

The voice breaks the king's reverie and he's suddenly drawn back to the present. He feel sadness at his memories, and yet, when he looks up into the darkened eyes that seem to know him so well, he feels it disappear.

"Ready?"

Merlin smiles, a gently tugging of the lips, and lifts Arthur to his feet, a small series of popping in his spine foretelling the king's end.

One hand plays with the wrinkling fingertips and the other comes back to his face. Merlin is gazing down at Arthur (the warlock was always taller, but with age, Arthur's back is stooped over) and the king feels something odd beginning to brew in his chest.

The snow picks up around them, cocooning them from the on looking eyes of Arthur's knights.

"Merlin…" God, it feels so good to say his name. The king clutches at his lover's hands and his eyes drop down to watch the years' doing to his once pale flesh. With his shriveled fingers gripping at Merlin's smooth palms, Arthur closes his eyes and sighs.

"I've missed you."

"And I you, my love."

No matter his age, a raging heat still finds its way across Arthur's cheeks; Merlin never was one for pet names, but still, hearing him call him so, sent Arthur into embarrassment.

"Will you come with me?"

Arthur's eyes snap back open and there is Merlin, in all his beauty, grinning with hope in his eyes.

"Come where?"

Merlin leans in closer, his fingers intertwining with the king's, and whispers into his ear: "Beyond this place."

_Ah, I see._

"And if I go?"

The brunette laughs, though it isn't completely full of joy. His eyes momentarily lose their focus and he asks, "You have to think about it?"

Arthur realizes his phrasing isn't what he planned and he clears his throat quickly. "No…I-I mean, can I say goodbye?"

A calmness settles over Merlin again and he squeezes Arthurs hand, his right palm caressing his cheek. "They already know."

And suddenly, Arthur is filled to the brim with so much relief that his jaw is beginning to hurt from smiling. It has all boiled down to this; he'd lost his lover before, he'd be insane to pass up the chance to return home with him.

The king can feel his muscles becoming lax and knows that somehow, Merlin was always planning on returning to him. He knows that his time is limited; he felt it this afternoon when he rose from his throne and had to catch his breath before even leaving the Great Halls.

"Arthur?" Merlin is quizzically peering at him, both his hands now going to the king's neck as his thumbs run gently over his jaw.

And then, with the strength remaining, Arthur leans forward and his lips stumble before finding their target: Merlin's mouth.

A ball of light is rising in his chest and Arthur feels dizzy. Though Merlin's lips always made the king light-headed, it is something else that is causing this new bout.

Arthur's eyes slid closed and there is a tingling sensation running over his skin. Merlin's mouth is still, his lips not moving, only placing themselves against Arthur.

Then, Merlin is gone.

Arthur opens his eyes to see his lover standing a few feet away and begins to question what he's doing when he raises his hand and feels something is off.

Looking down, Arthur is surprised to see taunt skin stretched over bones. His brows furrow and Arthur furiously pats himself down. A lean chest, strong jaw, and strong legs. His youth…it's returned!

"Merlin!"

The man in question has a full-blown grin across his face and quickly, Arthur finds himself in Merlin's arms. Their lips are quick against each other, whispers of endearment punctuating each meeting of mouths.

"I've missed you."

"You've said that."

A laugh and then, "You're ridiculous."

"And you're a prat."

When the part for air, Arthur realizes they are no longer on the hilltop. They are somewhere foreign to him; green meadows, a river interrupting the landscape, and various homes spread over the expanse of the horizon.

"Is this…?"

Merlin's hand finds Arthurs. "It can be wherever you want it to be."

Arthur's mouth is agape and he turns to see his lover, still dressed in that silly blue tunic and red neckerchief, smiling back, red brushing over his high cheekbones.

"Come," he says. "There are a few people who are glad to see you're finally home."

* * *

The queen, Guinevere, is called to the hill by Sir Wyatt, a loyal knight to her husband. Her three children, who are visiting from their own lands, are following behind her, their steeds' breaths coming in short gasps, the condensation floating through the breeze in white puffs.

The sun is almost up; dawn is upon them.

"Eliza," Gwen calls to her eldest daughter, "Stay back with Isobel."

It leaves only the queen and their middle child, a son, Amr, to follow behind his mother. When the reach the hill, the knights sent to follow him, are kneeled before the body of the King Arthur.

Gwen dismounts (she still prefers to ride her own steed, thank you) with the help of Amr, and the two make their way to Arthur. Though Gwen wishes to cry, the happiness that is etched into her husband's face keeps her from doing so.

Amr drops to one knee and begins to pray as Gwen looks down to Arthur's right hand, a thread-braided bracelet gripped loosely in his grasp. And though it's beyond everything she wants to do, Gwen smiles.

"I'm glad you finally found him, my love."

* * *

_When violet eyes get brighter  
And heavy wings grow lighter,  
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again._

Vanilla Twilight|**Owl City**


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